


The Best There Is

by Morse_s Child (sherlockstummy)



Category: Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Police Procedural, sick day, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:29:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4280310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockstummy/pseuds/Morse_s%20Child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He's the best there is."-Robbie Lewis, about Morse</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best There Is

**Author's Note:**

> This is tame enough to be gen, but there is some British curse words and light language in it. Just be advised. :) Enjoy!

Morse was actually sick. 

Robbie had known that since last Friday when his boss was more miserable than ever. Not even grumpy, just listless and, well, not himself. If Robbie was honest, he preferred Morse grumpy. It was more exciting that way, and Robbie did love to spar with Morse when he was in a mood.

Now, with Morse not in even after ten o’clock, Robbie knew his boss had succumbed to cold or flu or whatever it was he was sick with. That inevitably meant he’d be working with another inspector. Before, when he’d been Bottomley’s sergeant, he’d been tossed around like a hot potato that no one knew what to do with. Before he was with Morse full time, the station had been gifted with a surplus of sergeants all clamoring for work. Robbie was glad to be settled now but, not being an inspector yet, he wasn’t allowed to work alone.

It didn’t mean that he didn’t try, though.

Robbie found himself feeling unsettled after the crime scene that day. His temporary inspector was breaking for lunch, so Robbie broke away from the smoke and clamor of the station. He was used to stepping out with Morse by now, which appealed to his natural restless nature…even if it meant buying his superior more beer. He found himself driving to Morse’s home, and even so, he berated himself. Morse was ill and needed to rest. But something didn’t sit right about the case, and Robbie needed to talk to a sympathetic ear who would actually listen without dismissing him.

Robbie had learned that, even as grumpy and standoffish as he was, Morse was willing to listen to his theories and, better yet, give them a chance. And he rarely poked fun at him if they ended up being the wrong track. It was nice to have someone who trusted your instincts as your superior; Robbie felt he learned a lot more that way.

Robbie arrived at Morse’s house and got out of his Vauxhall. He knocked and waited a minute. No answer. He debated trying the doorbell, but thought better of it. If Morse was upstairs, he didn’t really want to disturb him. Robbie was about to leave when the door opened a crack. 

“Lewis…?” Morse’s voice was weak and hoarse.

“Sorry, Sir,” Robbie said honestly, ruffling the hair on the back of his head, part habit he’d picked up from Morse, part reflex due to the many bumps he’d received there. “Can I come in?”

“I suppose.” Morse turned from the door, but let it swing to. Robbie slipped inside and closed the door. Morse seemed to have made the main living area his sick room. Blankets and pillows were piled on the couch, all the curtains drawn, a soothing symphony playing on low from his record player. Morse himself was dressed in pyjamas, socks, and a winter robe. A scarf was hanging loosely on his neck. Robbie winced, hesitating at the entrance as Morse shuffled back to the couch.

Robbie looked at his feet and was about to apologize again when Morse chuckled. “Miss me already? I’ve only been out one day.” His voice seemed to be improving; given Morse’s hermetic nature, Robbie wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t talked to anyone since Friday. His eyes lacked a bit of their usual luster, and he was shivering slightly, wrapped in blankets on the couch and relaxing in his pillows, but he did look pleased to see his sergeant. Robbie felt at ease and walked further into the room. “Something bothering you?” Morse deduced after a minute. “I gather this isn’t a social call.”

Robbie smiled shyly. “Not entirely, Sir. While you’re out, they’ve gotten me a temporary assignment.”

“To whom, may I ask?”

“Inspector Finley, sir.”

“Ah.” Morse leaned back, smiling cheekily. Robbie saw him reaching for a water glass and snagged it, giving it to him. “Thank you. Well, sit down and tell me. Finley can’t have improved if you’re coming to me on your lunch hour.”

Robbie sat in the chair across from Morse a bit stiffly, more because he still felt awkward than out of fear of catching Morse’s malady. “It’s just…there’s something nagging me, about the case we’re on.” He glanced up, but Morse, still shivering slightly, was listening intently. He smiled at his lap and went on. “This poor woman, Lucy Lord…it was awful, Sir. I could barely stand to look at it.” He shuddered.

“Go on, Lewis.” Morse encouraged gently, and it took Robbie a second to realize he’d gone quiet.

“Well, everyone we questioned seemed pretty upset, you know, except her best friend. I’ve got a feeling they were something more, but Finley won’t hear it. Said he was in shock, or something. An…an he was, but…”

“But more like he’d been found out than that she was dead?” Morse guessed.

Robbie nodded. “Yeah! An his alibi is shaky an all. I dunno, I can’t put me finger on it, but somethin’s funny.”

“And you want to know if your feelings are valid.” Morse grunted as he shifted. “Well, to know for certain, I’d have to get a read on him. And in my experience, men are typically more put together than women…” He huffed at Robbie’s skeptical face. “Oh, come, Lewis! It’s not just my age! You know as well as I!” Morse pulled on the edges of his robe, studying Robbie a minute. For all he might say when he was upset for frustrated, he admired Robbie’s quick wit and even quicker train of thought. He’d come to trust his sergeant’s instincts as well as his own. If Robbie thought something was out of place, it probably was. “But,” he began, and saw Robbie lean in, ready to listen. “Go check his alibi again. See if you can find any holes in it. Trust your gut, and go where it takes you.” He coughed into his sleeve. “In the meantime, I’ll damn this cold and see if Strange won’t give it to me. If you don’t solve it by then, that is.”

Robbie had the decency to look appalled. “No, Sir! Rest and get better!”

Morse laughed weakly before coughing some more. “I recommend a bit of whiskey for that corpse you saw,” he said over the rim of his glass. “Then off you go, before Finley misses you.”

Robbie stood to pour himself a swallow of whiskey. “Sir?” He said quietly. “If…if Finley…what do I do if he…?”

“Makes a fuss?” Morse guessed, adjusting one of his blankets. “If anything comes of it, I’ll take the fall. Strange won’t come down too hard on me, especially if you’re right. Don’t worry. I would always do that for you, Lewis.”

Robbie smiled into his glass, relieved. It was nice to know his superior had his back, just as he had Morse’s. He swallowed down the rest of his whiskey and turned. “I’ll get out of your hair now so you can rest, Sir, but I’ll make you some tea first. If what you’ve got is anything like what Jack had last week, then your throat’s been bothering you.”

As Robbie walked into the kitchen, he heard a groan at his back. “Lewis! Don’t tell me one of your children was carrying this disease!”

“No, Sir. Only me, like as not.” 

Morse grunted in resignation and Robbie laughed.

A couple days passed. Morse requested updates and Robbie provided them. His superior looked to be getting better very slowly, but even so, the day Morse told Robbie he’d be going into work the next day had his sergeant urging a day of rest. However, Morse was determined, and, before long, he was standing before the chief superintendent requesting the case Lewis and Finley were working on.

“An arrest has been made! The chief constable is perfectly happy with it!” Strange scolded.

“New evidence has come to light, Sir. If you will just let me look into it before the trial…”  
Strange leveled his eyes at Morse. Morse fought to remain upright, less out of submission and more out of the fact that he was quite uncertain his legs would hold him. Robbie’s required day of rest had done wonders for the endless tire being ill brought, but he was still chilled, and not at his best. Still, work was work, and he was just as determined as Robbie to see justice done.

“All right, Morse,” Strange said at last, and Morse let out a relieved sigh (less at getting his way and more because his acting had paid off). “Three days. Three days until trial, and that’s it. Your time starts now.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Morse said courteously, turning to step out of the room.

He got back to his office, dizzy from the bustle of the station, his ears ringing, to find Robbie had kindly made him tea. It was station brew, but anything with a decent amount of sugar and a soothing quality for his throat tasted good to him. Robbie looked expectantly at him, but waited patiently until Morse was ready to speak.

“Three days,” Morse said after downing half his cup. “You’ve been keeping notes, like I told you? Good, I want to see them. With all the digging you’ve done, we should have the case solved the right way in time.”

“Right, Sir.” Robbie nodded, getting up to hand Morse the notes. His boss really could’ve used an entire week in bed, and Robbie realized with a sudden feeling of guilt that the reason Morse was here instead of his bed was his fault.

As if sensing an impending apology, a pair of sharp blue eyes found his. “Robbie, stop that. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think your findings noteworthy. I had to learn the hard way when I was in your shoes that having a superior who supports your theories is invaluable. And it’s the only way to see justice done, at times. We’ve no time to spend on guilt. I need to see Riley’s file. Do you have it?”

Robbie was stunned for a moment, but then surged into action. “Here, Sir.” He walked behind Morse’s desk, reading over his shoulder.

“Ah, ha!”

“Find what you were looking for?” Robbie asked, realizing too late he forgot the polite “sir” at the end.

Morse didn’t comment. “Yes.” He stood up with some care, but still with purpose. “Let’s go get our man, Lewis.”

“Aye, Sir. An…” Robbie blushed, looking away. “…thank ye. For believin I was right, ‘n all.”

Morse smiled kindly. “You’re welcome, Lewis. Now, come on! If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get home early today so I can sleep off the rest of this bloody cold.”

Robbie laughed. “I’m coming, Sir.”


End file.
